In Its Simplest Form

Sometimes it takes a long time for the American dream to take.

In Cecil's case, it took a few generations. He grew up in an extremely impoverished part of the Scotch-Irish region of Arkansas. There's no written record of his birth, and as such we've never been sure just how old he is. His father says he was born in 1914, his mother insists it was 1915, and the census claims it was 1917. If you ask him how this is possible, he shrugs and says "I don't know, there were lots of babies being born at the time."

Most of his brothers died, and none of them ever finished school. Cecil was the first to finish. He went on to college, and to earn his Masters, and went on to become a director of welfare in California. After his first marriage dissolved, he married a nurse, and together they had nine children and adopted one. They have been together for almost sixty years, and of their ten children, one is a pastor and a professor, one is a special ed teacher, one is a retired fighter pilot and diplomat, one is a hospital administrator, one is a nurse, one is a dental hygienist, one works for NATO security, one is a pilot for Northwest, one is a helicopter pilot for the Coast Guard, and one is a fighter pilot. Between them, they have 32 children (all of which have gone to college, most of which have graduated) and 6 grandchildren. What is perhaps most impressive is that all of them seem genuinely happy - with their careers, in their marriage, for their children. There are fifty members of this family, and between them there has been no jail time or suicides. None of them are rich, but none of them are poor. And all of them seem content.

It maybe doesn't seem like a big dream on paper, but I'm betting it did in Arkansas around 1914, 15, or 17. And Cecil's name might not make history books, but it made quite an impact on at least fifty people in the world. There are no rags to riches stories in this family, no "poor kid from Arkansas who hits the big time," but there are fifty good people with fifty good lives, which seems like just enough.

Sometimes I think Goldilocks had a very good point - had she been a child today, I'm sure she would have shoveled down Papa Bear's porridge and demanded seconds. She didn't though, and I'm inclined to agree with her - there's something to be said for "just right."